Cruising small

Sailing, sailing over the bounding main on a real windjammer, not a floating hotel

September 14, 2008|By Story by Lauren Viera, TRIBUNE REPORTER

There are cruises. And then there are cruises for people who hate cruises -- at least of the big-ship variety.

Some of the newer ships are so monstrous you might as well be in Vegas instead of on the water. There's as much temptation to stay aboard as to explore the ports. And for those of us who book cruises to sample several foreign cultures at once, big ships defeat the purpose.

But on little ships, there's little to do. As a result, passengers are more likely to venture off to excursions and, on rare occasions, wander beyond the ports.

For those of us in the latter category, we're lucky to have a ship like the Royal Clipper.

First of all -- and this is obvious -- it's gorgeous. Operated by Star Clippers, the Swedish-owned company of international sailing ships, the Royal Clipper looks like something out of "Pirates of the Caribbean." Modeled after the German-built Preussen -- a steel-hulled windjammer famous when it was built in 1902 for being the first five-masted sailing ship -- the Royal Clipper is all grandeur and sails. There are 42 of them in all -- think about that for a minute: 42 sails -- rigged to five tall masts, and together they catch enough wind to power the ship sans engines. (There are two on backup duty, just in case.)

Since the Preussen's 1910 wreck in the English Channel, the Royal Clipper inherited upon its 2000 completion the title of the only five-mast sailing ship -- and largest full-rigged sailing ship -- in the world.

It's a title worth bragging rights. With the heavy-duty Dacron sails comes the potential to capture enough wind to carry the 5,000-ton ship around the world -- if it did globe-circling cruises.

Sailing vessels such as the Royal Clipper are the ships of pioneers, of pirates. It's the real deal. And its passengers -- many of whom are people who would otherwise hate cruises -- are well aware of it.

There were 223 of us aboard the Royal Clipper for a week on a late-March sailing tour of the Caribbean's Windward Islands. A few folks nearly missed the boat (yes, literally) due to a tardy connecting flight, but when the vessel's this small, it can afford to wait for stragglers. So it did, for nearly two hours past our scheduled departure time from the port of Barbados.

But when we finally sailed just after midnight, nearly everyone was still on deck, anticipating the sail-off.

On a ship like this, it's worth the wait.

It's all about those sails, dramatically unfurling one by one. There was mood lighting, there was stirring music and, for those of us gazing up at those huge masts scraping against the Caribbean splay of stars, it was -- and this is going to sound goofy -- kind of magical. The Royal Clipper's sail-away ceremony is genuinely moving -- and I'm not talking about the boat.

That came later.

The first night was so rough, it was scary. I'd experienced rough seas before on overnight ferries, but this was roll-helplessly-from-side-to-side-of-your-bed rough. This was entire-contents-of-the-medicine-cabinet-spilling-onto-the-floor rough. This was sleep-with-your-life jacket-at-the-foot-of-your-bed rough. During our briefing the following morning, the captain's cheery call for a count of seasick passengers was met with several green-faced glowers.

Capt. Sergey Utitsyn summed up the experience succinctly. "This is a sailing ship," he said, a knowing twinkle in his eye and a thick Estonian accent on his tongue. "If it's not rolling, something is wrong."

So it goes on the Royal Clipper, where Mother Nature, not the cruise director, is boss.

And for the most part, she complied.

In perfect, sunny, 75-degree weather, the Royal Clipper sailed with ease through the Lesser Antilles, gently escorting its passengers to the rain-forest-covered wilds of St. Lucia and Dominica.

Our shallow draft allowed us to anchor in the tiny harbor off Terre-de-Haut, an impossible stop for typical cruise ships with deeper drafts. There we spent an afternoon in the refreshingly untouristy seaside village of Le Bourg, brushing up on rusty French with patient locals.

We took Zodiac rides with the very young, very tan Scandinavian aquatic sports team to explore remote white-sand beaches on Antigua. And on the French island of Martinique, in Fort de France, our most populated port town, I stocked up on lingerie at a satellite location of Parisian department store Galleries Lafayette while several of my shipmates stayed on board, spoiled by the smaller ports leading up to it.

Besides, most of them had been there before. About 60 percent of the Royal Clipper's passengers are repeat customers.